Target of Opportunity
by Rifleman
Summary: This is more Action/Adventure/Supernatural/Humor/Drama. I explain a lot of the story in the beginning, but this is set near the end of the clan invasion. UPDATED!!


ANThis is a story that has been in the works for quite some time now. But then, most of my stuff takes a while. Mechwarrior® belongs to FASA Corp. ©®™. All Mechwarrior, BattleTech, and related material is copyright FASA. I also will use Clan and IS designations for mechs, depending on which one sounds cooler to me. Now that the legal bullshit is out of the way, ON WITH THE FIC!!/AN  


* * *

  


Target of Opportunity

  
Prologue: The Background  
January 15, 3286  
  
*BMP*BMP*BMP*  
I heard the lasers arc their way across my center and left torso. I was getting angry; the reinforcements were few and far between. Although this was a solo mission, I occasionally teamed up with other strike teams to take out the larger targets. This was not one of those times. I had had enough of this BS and decided that it was time they learned the true limits of the machines they recklessly piloted.   
Cranking the throttle on my Firemoth III, I accelerated and brought my laser, missile, and autocannon fire to bear on their pathetic excuse for armor. In mere moments all that remained were scrap piles, smoking craters, and carbonized lumps of human flesh. The stench of death and decay was all around me, permeating the armor and internal filters, filling the cockpit with a smell that was all too familiar to me. I had retaken my planet from the Clans, and avenged the deaths of my family. All was supposed to be peaceful again…  
  


--- Two years later ---

  
Coming home from the battle, I reflected on the campaign that had won me so many accolades and medals and such. Despite my rank of lambda galaxy commander, {AN: I know it's IS, but he's a former Clan Bondsman. Penchant for nostalgia I suppose.} and the four star league medals of honor, the twelve distinguished service awards, and too many purple hearts to count, I felt I was no more important than the lowly mechwarrior at the bottom of the hierarchy. I don't know why this was, but "The Campaign", as it was called, has probably caused me more grief than anything else in this world, second only to the destruction of my home planet and everyone on it, including my wife, children, parents, cousins, aunts and uncles, everyone. Everything I had ever loved was on that planet when those accursed Clans came and wrought destruction with such force that even I was taken aback. I suppose that's one of the reasons I fight, to numb the pain with the clamor and savagery of battle.  
Religion has all but been forgotten; those fortunate enough to remember the religions of old, are both blessed and cursed by it. I am one of those with this double- edged sword of knowledge. Blessed by the promise of eternal salvation, cursed with the persecution and ignorance of others who do not see beyond the shell of life that science has given them. But still I fight and bleed and carry on, just to reach the battle's end, where I hope to find an answer to life's mysteries, or perhaps, salvation.  
I know, probably more than anyone, that peace is impossible. I have long possessed this knowledge, it's just that the recent events had weighed heavily upon me, darkening my spirits, and causing me to fight with a rage and fervor that was and is still unmatched throughout the Inner Sphere. My mech and I were known throughout all space and on every planet I went to, the locals were always wary of me. Not only because of a vastly superior combat prowess in a mech, but also because I also excelled in hand-to- hand combat, even against more than three opponents, with each of them carrying a knife. I can't explain it, but I never bragged about my abilities. I knew full well that I could kill all of them in seconds, but I never openly declared it without a good reason. But my skills are of little concern because my next campaign was going to prove my last in that dimensional plane.   
  
  
  
Chapter 1: Tertiary Objective Successful  
August 3, 3288  
"Ok, this is going to be fun for you Greg, because it's an extended campaign, deep into hostile space." The TO told me as he started the briefing, which addressed only me, because I was the only one willing, not to mention qualified, to accept this mission. "This is interesting because you only have one primary objective, the secondary ones being necessary to complete the primary, but not important enough to be labeled as such."  
"And your point is…?" I said.  
"My point is that you will need to make seven strikes against these," the TO paused as the seven secondary objective locations were lit up on the briefing screen, "facilities in order to bring down the enemies planetary defenses. Once those are down, we can start sending in troops to deal with those damned clanners."  
"Why can't I just go in and kill them all then? With an all laser loadout I can easily take them down."  
"I wish it were that simple. You see, the Clans have put up extremely strong planetary defenses in ground-based form. So if we tried any sort of drop, any troops, including you, would be incinerated by the defenses. Now, to combat this, we can disassemble your mech and send it down under the guise of debris, the same will be done with you, except that you will be given elemental armor to be able to reassemble your mech once you have completed planet-fall. Then, with your mech reassembled, you will continue to your objectives." the TO finished.  
"Anything else you want to tell me before I go on this suicide mission?" I replied, carrying a distinct tone of sarcasm that practically dripped from my words.   
"Well, now that you mention it, there IS a tertiary objective for you, 'Destroy any Targets of Opportunity'." He said.  
"Alrighty then, time to kick ass and chew bubble gum, and me without my gum." I said as I exited the room, heading for the mech bay.  
  


*** Later, after planet-fall and mech reassembly have been confirmed as successful ***

  
"Ok Greg, we have to maintain radio silence, but we have patched you into enemy comm frequencies, so you will be able to hear and broadcast on their channels." The commander told me, "Also, you will be regarded as an enemy unit by all automated defenses. So be careful when you are trying to leave."  
"No problem. See you in a few, over and out."  
  
"Secondary objective; destroy power generators; successful." The computer told me, as the reactor went critical, destroying everything within a 1-kilometer radius of it; everything except me.  
"Thank you, one down, six to go."  
"Secondary objective; destroy cryo-plasma regulators; successful."  
"Secondary objective; destroy psionic research facility; successful."  
"Secondary objective; destroy HPG uplink; successful."  
"Secondary objective; destroy greenhouses; successful." Hey, they had to feed those people.  
"Secondary objective; destroy particle accelerators; successful."  
"Secondary objective; destroy core cooling system; successful."   
"Alright, that's the last of them. Now to go after the big kahuna." I said as I parked my mech in a cave to cool down a little after that firefight. "Now, I get to go on the real suicide mission. This ought to be fun. Let's see what intel was able to get for me." I said as I opened the intelligence file on enemy forces in the area. What I saw was absolutely incredible. The Clans had somehow been able to duplicate our "mega-mechs"; mechs that weighed up to seven hundred tons and had the ability to lay waste to entire planets by themselves. There was a full star of them guarding the main defense weapon. I was utterly astonished. Sure I was used to fighting on a level playing field, I still won, but this was a whole new league I was about to combat. Oddly, I felt the old sensation of fear come back. I was so used to fighting inferior pilots using inferior technology that I was starting to get worried. I knew full well the Clans would not trust the pinnacle of battlefield technology to anyone less than perfect. However, some would argue that my skills transcended perfection. I don't think so, I think that anyone could beat me, they just haven't figured out how…yet. Well, everyone has "just one of those days", I guess today's my day for one.  
Marching forward, the long range scanners picked up the only enemies in the area; the four mega-mechs that had given me such a shock. However, it is my belief that if one should die, they should die honorably in the setting of their profession. A scientist should die honorably in a lab explosion; a farmer should die honorably in his field when an earthquake strikes; and a warrior should die honorably on the field of battle. Nevertheless, I continue forward, continuing to challenge even fate itself, hoping that somehow, I would survive in at least two pieces.   
"(static) Enemy contact. Attack pattern gamma…go." I heard the enemy say, as I thought 'aww fuck'. I continue to press them, testing the limits of the laws of physics at times, and hoped I would survive. Then…  


WOOSH

  
Missiles raced to me, causing me to blink a few times at the sheer number. Apparently they had boated their mechs and need to use them in tandum. This would be both an advantage for them as well as a disadvantage. If I could separate them, then engage them, that might let me get them. On the other hand, if they stay together, which they probably will, they will continue to wear me down, and kill me. Other plans and ideas raced through my head at a billion miles an hour. I almost was so engrossed in my own thoughts that I didn't think to fight back. I was carrying a loadout that was entirely energy weapons. Which was good, because then I didn't have to worry about ammo. But when you have the odds stacked against you like I did, ammo is the least of your worries.   
Then the missiles impacted; or at least what was left of them, I had forgotten about the LAMS (Laser Anti-Missile System) I had had installed prior to the mission. I thanked God for that thing, especially since there were three of them; they had shredded the barrage to pieces before it even closed 500 meters. I returned fire, however, they had anticipated my all energy loadout and put laser-reflective armor on, instead of the usual ferro-fibrous. Then I saw an absolutely terrifying thing, they had jump jets, and were apparently experts at using them. But then what else could I expect from the elite of the elite? Despite this, my thoughts on my situation could be summed up in three words.  
"Well fuck me." I accidentally said over the radio, which was set on enemy frequencies. "Oh shit." I said after I realized that.  
"Frequency compromised, switch to secure channel four." I heard them say one last time. However, HQ was smart enough to program all enemy frequencies into my systems, only this time, I would set it to 'receive only'. I told the computer to play around with the frequencies and see what it could pick up. While I concentrated on keeping myself and my machine in one piece. So with the battle beginning, and my ears as well as my eyes open, I lunged into combat, not expecting to live. But I figured that I would go out in a blaze of glory. As long as I took one of those fuckers down, I would be victorious in my own weird way. Then, as the first of their autocannon shots hit me, I sort of blanked out. I felt as though I could see through the ever-present "fog of war" and see their weak spots, even ones they didn't know about. I can't explain it, it just happened, I guess I wanted to live so badly that my brain simply let go all its preconceived limits and did what it had to I guess, because I don't remember any of the battle, save for bits and pieces of memories.   
In retrospect, I can piece together what that battle must have been like. The roar and din of combat surrounded me; autocannons had singe marks on their own barrels from the heat of all that ammunition. Lasers were starting to melt under their own power, and missile guidance systems were rendered almost completely useless, as their tracking systems were scrambled not only from the ambient heat, but also from the heat of the fusion reactors and the mechs themselves. PPC use was almost unquestionable, as even with the greatly increased heat tolerance allowed by the new generation of mechs, it would have caused an automatic shutdown that would not be possible to override. However, my brain and computer obviously worked in tandem with each other, the computer providing raw data and computational ability, and my brain providing skill and experience. Nevertheless, I finally snapped out of my trance and was surprised that I wasn't standing with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.   
"Well…da-amn. Guess I showed dem bitches I mean bidness!" I said, reveling in my victory with a quick bout of ghetto-speak. "Mission accomplished. Proceeding to dustoff site, Tertiary objective will be completed if it presents itself." I had to say that for the record. It was a good 4000 km to the dustoff site, so I decided that after that, I could afford to take my sweet time. Setting the throttle to 50%, I engaged the autopilot, sat back, and enjoyed the ride. Remembering a favorite song of mine I started singing to myself, "Life is an aimless drive, that you take alone, might as well enjoy the ride, take the long way home…hmm, that was strangely satisfying." Then I fell asleep.  
  
Only to be rudely awakened several hours later; by enemy fire.  


#BOOM#BOOM#BOOM#BMP#BMP#CRASH#

  
Not the first thing I wanted to hear when I woke up, but it annoyed me that some dumbass Star Adder would dare attack me.   
"What the hell?!" I yelled into the radio, deliberately establishing contact with and enemy.  
"Die Inner Sphere stravag!" as the idiot poured laser and autocannon fire into me.  
"You will regret that decision Clanner." I said as I returned his fire tenfold. His armor promptly crumpled and gave under the barrage. Again, all that was left was a smoking pile of semi-molten metal and the smell of death. It was getting slightly annoying that that was the most common sight and smell in my life. Sometimes, after all that, you just want to lie in a field of flowers; just to have a change in scenery.   
I walked along for a few hours before the computer awoke me rather rudely. Apparently we had come across a target of opportunity. It loomed in the distance, and had that look that gave you an ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach.   
"3000 meters to target, closing." The computer spat out in its usual, curt tone.  
"Right…anyway, lets have a looksee at what's inside this mofo." I said to myself as I brought my long-range sensors online. After remembering that I had to be within one kilometer of the target to get the kind of scan I was after, I closed to distance and began a full, very thorough search, of the structure of unknown use.  
Upon completing my task, I found that the building contained many high-tech pieces of equipment. Even in this day and age, you don't see many ether reactors in ANY part of space. Likewise, you don't see quantum accelerators in kids' backyards. Although there we two pieces that truly confounded me. One appeared to be some sort of gravity manipulation device, something that could change the very nature of the force that kept me on-planet. Its really nothing like the gravity warps that jumpships use to travel from system to system, its not a rift generator, its more of a distorter; like the difference between digging a tunnel somewhere, and pouring water on cracked desert dirt. It does the same thing in that it changes the fundamental nature of the force of gravity, but in different ways, and almost certainly for different purposes. The second, appeared to be some sort of a psychic amplification or modification device; possibly for new tests that the clans were conducting in order to try and gain even more of an edge of the forces of the Inner Sphere. Although I seriously doubt that the clan advantage over Inner Sphere tech can get any bigger. However, it may not be for that; it could be something totally benign. I guess I'll never know what those machines were supposed to do, because when I blew that lab, something happened that I will never forget. That something would change the course of my life forever.  
"Tertiary objective; destroy targets of opportunity; suc…" and the computer shorted out somehow. "Core OS failure, system unstable, attempting reboot."   
"Figures, anytime you blow high-tech stuff up, weird shit's bound to happen." I said as I waited for the computer to reboot. While I was waiting, I noticed the scenery seemed to twitch, almost. Against a far off mountain; as if it was a painting; I saw the mountain twist and then untwist, like someone stuck a screwdriver in a canvas and twisted. "Well…I wonder what in the hell that was?". Then the computer came online.  
"Reactor…online; sensors…online; weapons…online; system stability…confirmed. All systems nominal."  
"I told you so." I thought to myself as I listened to the rest of the startup dialogue.  
"The time is 14:23:05 GST, May 27, 3280."  
"What? It's not 3280, its 3288. The comp thinks it's eight years ago…" and with that, a realization dawned. "That's…the year…of my family's…death." I slumped into the chair and wrestled with what to do. Do I continue? Do I stay and grieve a while? What about the computers mistake? What's going on here? What exactly was in that facility? All these thoughts and more raced through my head. After an hour or so, I woke up, realizing that I had cried myself to sleep, and lay there, in the cockpit, for an hour, curled up in the fetal position.   
"What time is it!" I yelled, startling myself, not only because I was worried about my sanity, but also because I didn't think it was that loud.  
"The time is 18:54:42 GST." The computer responded in its normal monotone.  
"Dammit. I have to get going. I was supposed to be at the rendezvous point half an hour ago." I wiped my tears and punched the throttle, literally and figuratively. Racing across the flat badlands of that part of the planet, I easily made it to the dustoff site. However, there was no dropship. In fact, there was absolutely nothing. Not one crater was there from weapon fire, not one scorch mark from enemies going critical, and most of all, there was no smell in the air. Just the normal smell of this barren section of the planet. Which is what disturbed me.  
To understand why I was disturbed, you have to know a little bit about the planet. It's lopsided, shaped like an egg. Which means that the gravity is twenty times stronger at the poles than it is at the equator. As such, there are no animals or plants that can survive in that gravity. Because of this lack of life, carcass' take ages to decompose, and even longer for the smell to go away; this is why that was my landing site. There would be this grim marker telling me I was in the right place. But there was no smell at all. The computer confirmed that for me. So I did what I was trained to do.  
Return to the urban areas and blow the absolute fuck out of everything that wasn't me until I got some answers. I could tell the end of this mission would be the best part.  
On the way back, I remembered to check my mission objectives. I had made a few modifications to the computers mission objective program. It remembered all the buildings that I targeted. Which wasn't hard, but I got a little tedious to try and remember every building I blew to smithereens. So I went back over the objectives, checking them off with the computer.  
"All secondary objectives successful. All primary objectives successful. Tertiary objective; destroy targets of opportunity; incomplete. All objectives have been stated." And the computer stopped talking.  
"What the hell? I know I destroyed that building. I better go check on it." So I temporarily altered course, and headed towards that research facility. "I'll be damned if this thing screwed up like that…" I muttered to myself as I readied my lasers to destroy it a second time if need be. As I was advancing and finally saw it on my long-range scanners, the comp also picked up some very unusual wavelengths coming from the facility, or something around the facility. "Ok, what the hell are those?" I asked as the comp tried to analyze their pattern.  
"Unknown waveform. Attempting correlation to all known wavelengths and/or waveforms."   
"You do that." I said, as I focused on bringing that building down…again. Apparently something was very wrong here, but I wasn't sure what exactly. Despite my superior computer, superior machine, and extraordinary combat ability, I had a very bad feeling about all this. As the computer worked to try and figure out what the wave could be, I advanced and opened communications with the building.  
"Attention, unidentified structure, I am Galaxy Commander Greg Strato, of the 14th Terran Guards; state your designation and purpose. Or else I'll blow that pile of toothpicks up!" I said as I put the barrel of my left arm lasers about one foot away from the glass of a window.  
"He-he-hey there…we don't want any trouble…we're just scientists!" the man pleaded.  
"It doesn't matter, I know I've blown this building up before, and I'll do it again if I don't get some answers! Weird shit's been going on ever since I blew this thing up yesterday! So now, I want some answers damnit!"   
"O-o-ok, what d-d-do you want t-to know?" he stammered. Apparently, he was the only one with the constitution to talk to me at all. I could tell that if they survived, they would never be able to call that day a boring day at the office.   
"First off, I want to know what the hell goes on in this place."  
"We're experimenting w-with jumpship drive systems, and seeing if t-the engines could be m-modified for t-time travel…" he could barely spit out the words. I kinda felt sorry for them. It was terrifying have a walking fusion reactor, armed to the teeth, marching towards you, with its guns pointed at you. I was guessing at least half of the staff had already either fainted, or shit themselves. I chuckled to myself a short bit and then resumed the questioning.  
"Ok, so what would happen if I blew, say…that pipe up? Or how about that one?"  
"You would destroy this whole facility and take yourself with it!"  
"Hmm, let's see if you're right!" I said as I retargeted my lasers on said piping.   
"No! You can't do that!"  
"Watch me."  
"Boom." Said the pipe.  
"Oh shit."  
"Whoops, was that me?"  
"IDIOT!"  
"What did you just say?!"  
"Nothing…nothing at all."  


BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

"Wow." I said after the smoke cleared. "That was the biggest firecracker I ever set off." Well now that that was out of the way, I headed back to urban areas to try and find some answers. However, when I turned around, what I saw was not exactly what I was expecting. "………sweet…holy…motherfuck…" I said as I beheld the scene that lay before me. Mechs were scattered about in bits and pieces, I could even see charred bodies in the cockpits of the more fortunate pilots. The others I would rather not think about too much. They had either been completely carbonized, or had been splattered against the backs of the cockpits. It almost made me nauseous. Which is a feat in and of itself. Nevertheless, I made my way through the debris and rubble, in an attempt to find someone, or something that could tell me what had happened. This was becoming very weird very fast.   
  
I made my way through the city, trying not to think about what might have caused all the destruction. It was horrifying, body parts everywhere, carcass' split open and left to rot in the streets, huge bloodstains against flagpoles, walls, and the ground. It looked like Hell itself had over flown onto this planet.   
"Oh…God…" I said as I marched along, occasionally accented by the sound of bone and tissue being crushed under the scorched feet of my mech. Men, women, children…even pets, all were victims of an untold rampage of death and destruction; it made me sick. "I swear, when I find out who's responsible for this…first I'll shove my foot so far up their ass they'll be flossing with my bootlaces, then I'll have their head on a platter!" with that, I set about looking for any sign of life or which way this massacre was going. I wouldn't find it until weeks later.  
  
August 4, 3280  
"Goddamnit! Where the hell are you! Come out and fight, coward!" I yelled at no one in particular, partly because I beginning to become sleep deprived. I noticed that only one building was still standing, but it was towards the outskirts of the city and paid it no mind. I continued my search, and with practically nothing to go on, I wandered aimlessly, hoping to get some clue that would revitalize my spirits and rejuvenate my strength.   
  
  
Chapter 2: Drawing Parallels  
August 5, 3280  
  
I found nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! Nothing that would help me find our what happened when I blew that facility. I needed sleep and knew it, but another shot would keep me going for another few hours. Although I bet my kidneys and liver didn't like it too well, I had taken ten over the course of two days. I was beginning to think that I had gone a bit crazy. I quickly dismissed the thought, replacing it with the knowledge that I needed sleep badly. I decided that I had searched enough and had probably taken enough drugs to kill a moose, so I pulled the controls and a foot pedal, turn my scarred machine around to head out of the city. I was so tired that I was almost able to ignore the grisly scene on the ground. When, at long last, I made it out, I found a nice open spot to shutdown on, and fell asleep right there in the cockpit. I must have slept for at least a day or two.  
  
August 7, 3280  
  
"Good afternoon. It is now 17:23:46; August 7, 3280".   
"Oh man, did I ever need that nap!" I said as I stretched in the black foam rubber seat of my Firemoth III. Refreshed from the daylong sleep, I made my way back into the city and resumed my search a little before where I had left off. It didn't hurt to recheck the end, I was almost asleep then. I searched and searched, but still, all I found was just more bodies that needed burials.  
When I had completed my search of the city and concluded that I had seen all there was to see, I made my way out the opposite side, and began wondering if there were any other cities or settlements on this planet, whenever the hell this was. "Computer, scan the planet for any other settlements. I know you have the data already but do it again, this is a very different case."   
"Processing…results: two other inhabited region on the planet, set at nav points theta and epsilon."   
"Excellent." I said in that 'Mr. Burns' type way. "Computer, when we get in range of the cities, I want you to scan for any and all life form within a 50 kilometer range of the city's center. If it breathes oxygen or takes a shit I want to know about it. Is that clear?"  
"Yes."  
"Excellent." In the 'Mr. Burns' way.  
  
As I headed towards the city I noticed that outside the city limits everything seemed as though nothing at all had happened. That was strange because of the fact that if anything had wrought such destruction, surely it would have touched outside the city. But this was different; it was too clean, too concise, too good. There had to be outside forces at work here. Otherwise I would have seen it. Nevertheless, I continued out to where I had decided to make camp. Seeing as how there was no one there to talk to, I conversed with the AI for a while. I quickly gave that up, as no computer could ever match the experience of talking to a real person.   
The time had come to figure out what exactly the hell was going on here. First of all, I was totally clueless as far as what happened when I first blew up the facility, not to mention to fact that the comp thought it was eight years in the past. What could possibly have happened? What was the true nature of that facility? I could attribute the reality change to the gravitational equipment; I may be a warrior, but that doesn't mean that I have to remain ignorant of the facts. In fact, if I hadn't become a warrior, I would have been a scientist. But that's beside the point. The point is, I still had a loose end; that psionic equipment. What exactly were they doing with that? I mean, they couldn't possibly believe that humans had any chance of becoming a psionic race, could they? I needed to make sure, but to find that out, I would need to enlist the help of the locals.  
Heading towards nav Epsilon, I wondered what kind of people I would meet there. I couldn't decide what kind of people to expect but I had an idea as to what they would NOT be like. I was willing to bet that they would either have no sense of humor or a very dry one at that. But all the while I was thinking about what they would be like, the computer was picking something else up.  
"Attention, two full stars of unidentified mechs approaching from 78°." The computer spat back out at me, oddly enough, it had some remnant of a different tone in it. Apparently it had been paying attention to me as I was talking to it all those times. Oh well, I had two stars of mechs to deal with. Nevertheless, I was confident. I then made contact.  
"Attention, unidentified mechs, this is Lambda Galaxy Commander Greg Strato, state your unit name and designation or I will open fire." I had to keep this professional or else I would have only one more chance, and I did not want to be in that situation. Never mind the fact that I didn't want to make enemies.   
"State _our_ designation?! You better explain yourself buddy, unless you wanna be a smoking crater."  
"Apologies commander, I have somehow become lost and require assistance. Can you help me?"  
"So one minute you're ordering us around, the next you are asking us to help you. What's the deal with you? You got some kinda disorder? Nevertheless, power down your weapons, active radar, and long-range communications systems and we will take you back to base for interrogation. Kurita out."  
"Kurita? As in 'the Draconis Combine' Kurita?" I thought as I pondered what it could mean while they led me back to their base. The DC could have been assimilated by the Federated Commonwealth after the defeat of the Clans, and these were some sort of resistance to that assimilation. Or the Clans had come back, with even more powerful warriors, and laid waste to the Inner Sphere. I know this seems impossible but since that building was there _again_ and the whole thing with the city, I had to give consideration to ANY scenario, except the ones that were plausible, since everything I knew was rendered as good as rubbish by this very odd turn of events.   
  
  
Chapter 3: Interrogation  
August 7, 3280  
  
After about three hours of walking at a snail's pace (to me at least) we reached the base they had told me about. It was quite a surprise; I had expected a rag-tag base from the fact that a _Kurita_ was leading a scouting party, but was pleasantly surprised.  
It had most of the modern ammenities that mechlabs had, minus a few (it _was_ a field base). I also noticed that it seemed to lack support capabilites for the new generation of mechs that I piloted. That was what worried me the most. That they wouldn't be able to reload, re-armor, and repair my mech because it was too advanced. Which they found to be quite a shock, as they had never seen a mech that weighed anywhere **close** to what mine did. However, thanks to the all laser load-out, I did not have to worry about ammunition shortages due to the voracious appetite my machine had for autocannon rounds and LRMs. They were also thankful for that, however, the enormous demand for armor, and replacement heat sinks, caused a bit of fuss from the higher commands. This machine they had found wandering the no-mans-land of the planet was a monster. It could take enormous amounts of damage, tolerate extremely high internal temperatures, and could also dish out such damage as to completely level a planet's defenses on it's own, with no backup whatsoever. But it was not without high cost. It required a full team of dedicated engineers to keep it in perfect working order, as well as enough resources to supply a battalion of regular mechs for a month; which it used in about a week. But they were fortunate that I had chosen to be self-sufficient as far as weaponry goes, but armor was going to be in short supply if I was to receive any at all. And if I decided to change my load-out for any reason, the ammo would not last long. I could tell that they would be fortunate to have a few extra techs on hand, because with my limited repair knowledge, (very limited) they would do well to be able to rapidly repair laser weaponry. This was all assuming that I would be permitted to fight, let alone with my machine. I could tell from the way they were looking it over that they were _veeery_ suspicious of me. I mean, first, they think I have a mental condition, then they find that my mech could level this place in about 1.243 seconds, and you think they're going to just _let_ me go back out, let alone in my own machine? I didn't think so. I was still sitting in my cockpit as I saw the techs on the ramps and catwalks looking at the mech with awe. Never before had these techno-philes seen a finer instrument of war. But the good feeling that came with people eyeing my mech was washed quickly away by someone tapping on the glass, and mouthing the words, "Out". I opened the cockpit to find someone standing to my left and four rather tough looking guards holding rifles.  
"You took long enough to get out. Maybe you won't take so long to get to the interrogation room." He said as realization dawned on me. This guy was the commander that I spoke with on the field. That voice was unmistakeable. Kurita's notoriously had a Japanese accent, which was (in this case) very apparent.   
  
Later on, in the interrogation room, I try to convince them that my story is real.  
"But I'm telling you, I blew up the building the first time, then all this weird shit started happening..."  
"Like what?" they interrupted.  
"Like one minute I am looking at a relatively normal city, I turn around, blow the building, turn back around, and find a massacre! You can go check if you want! Just let me get back to my mech!"  
"Not likely, seeing as how you have yet to give us a plausible explanation for this situation. I won't even _touch_ the matter of the tech level of your mech."  
"I'm going to tell you this _one_ more time. I have no fucking clue as to how I got here, why I'm here, or what the hell I'm doing in this God-forsaken wasteland! I'm not some spy, nor am I some agent of your enemy, if there are any on this planet."  
"Well, I'm not getting anywhere fast trying to pry the details of your arrival out of you, so let's address your mech, shall we?"  
"Oh God."  
"First you can start by giving me the lowdown on the capabilities of this thing."  
"Why the hell should I?"  
"Because if _you_ don't, our tech's will take it apart and will never put it back together."  
"Point. Fine then, where should I start?"  
"You can start by giving me a weapons specifications, then armor, then equipment, and finally explain to the techs, as best you can, how to recreate it. From what I hear, it's a chassis capable of supporting 700 tons. A thing like that is too dangerous to let someone we know nothing about have."  
"I see where you're coming from. But before I tell you anything about my mech, I want you to know that I mean you no harm, hell, I didn't even know you were here until ten hours ago."  
"I'll be the judge of where your loyalties lie in relation to us."  
"Whatever, would you like me to begin?"  
"I was waiting."  
"Alright, right now it's got an all energy weapon load-out. All the weapon locations are omnipods. So my mech can hold any variety of weapons, in any configuration. Right now, in each arm pod, there are two large pulse lasers, three medium pulse lasers, and four small pulse lasers. In the left torso are a pair of PPC's. In the right, are a trio of ER large lasers, that have been specially modified for sniping. They have an extra 1000 meters tacked onto the already impressive range, and do damage and a half of the normal version. Nothing but the engine is in the center. The armor is a blend of ferro-fibrous and laser-reflective armor, and underneath are two layers of reactive armor, with a standard ferro-fibrous layer inbetween. The equipment is top of the line; state-of-the-art. Beagle Active Probe, third generation; Guardian ECM 2; three LAMS on the head; and MASC level 3. As far as the tech's go, I wouldn't know the first thing about fixing it, because I'm the pilot. The pilot has more important things to worry about in the heat of battle than where the red and blue wires go."  
"I see. Well, we'll just have to figure that out."  
"I did however, talk with one of my technicians once about my mech. He said that the weaponry and armor were nothing special, just lots more of them. The only technical difference between my mech and standard mechs is that mine has a much higher stress tolerance."  
"Meaning...?"  
"Simply put, it means that essentially all my mech is, is a bigger stronger chassis. With a few of my personal modifications that is."  
"I see. Well now that that has been taken care of, let us return to the matter of how you got here and what exactly the hell you are doing."  
"I told you already, I have no clue why I'm here, or how I got here."  
"Not good enough, tell me everything that led up to this."  
"Fine, you wanna hear my _whole_ story? The story of my life? Cause that's what led up to this."  
"I got time. Shoot."  
So I told him the whole thing. The whole deal with the Clans, the retaking of my home planet, everything. It's a long story and is rather uneventful until recently; for obvious reasons.  
  


Later...

  
  
"...So then after I woke up, I began wandering the wastelands of this planet, looking for civilization." Which wasn't entirely true, but I was not about to get bogged down by details.  
"I almost feel sorry for you. Almost. However, _that_ story was more detailed and didn't leave much in the way of plot holes, so it is more believable. That concludes the interrogation. You will be escorted to your cell." He said as he turned and left in a very arrogant manner.  
"What the hell do you mean 'my cell'?!"  
"Your cell. You didn't actually think we'd _like_ having new people around here did you? What with all the spies recently."  
"For the last time, I am _**NOT**_ a spy!"  
"I don't know that, and that means you are a spy to me. If you're a spy to me, then you get a cell to stay in. It's as simple as that."  
"I don't believe this."  
"Believe it pal. The only scenery you see for the next week is that of cast iron bars."  
"This is bullshit. You know damned well I wouldn't do something that cowardly! I'm a Galaxy Commander for God's sake!"  
"Point, but Greg Strato died twenty years ago!"  
"Check it anyway!"  
"I'll put it on my list of priorities."  
"Goddammit." Then some big tough looking guards came and "escorted" me to my cell. It was dank, moldy, and just plain shitty. "Son of a bitch" I said as I stopped in the doorway and turned my head from side to side, examining the room.  
"Just get in there, _Galaxy Commander_." One of the guards said as he pushed me into the cell. It was true; what the interrogator had told me earlier. I did stay there for a week. It sucked the biggest mountain of ass you could think of.   
  
August 14, 3280  
Some more guards came to "escort" me to the interrogation room again. Hopefully this would go better than last weeks "session".  
"Good morning."  
"Well you're looking somewhat healthy. What's the deal here?"  
"Well, it seems in my search I found name somewhere. However,as I told you before, Greg Strato has been dead....for twenty years."  
"What the fuck?" I thought to myself. What I said was, "I'm evidentally alive."  
"Ok, buddy. You wanna try this again, or do I have to beat it out of you?"  
"Try what again? I am Galaxy Commander Greg Strato. I'm most certainly _not_ dead."  
"Listen, I don't know who you are or where you came from, but you are _not_ Greg Strato, he was a great warrior, and he died honorably in battle."  
"Why don't you check my fingerprints or even better, do a retinal scan. Maybe do a DNA comparison if you have some of his on file." I was feeling very good about my situation now; he had called me a 'great warrior'.  
"Why don't you tell me who the hell you really are before I lost my patience."  
"I'm telling you, I am Greg Strato. Hell, just check the picture!"  
"Fine, you wanna see what he looks like? Here." He said, handing me a small datapad. I switched it on, and looked through the records for myself. I found a quite a few files, but few pictures. Those pictures that were there were mostly those of my mech in action, and you could never see the pilot when the mech was in a fight; the smoke trails were too thick in the air. That's why there are those nifty little red targetting brackets. Anyway, while searching I dug up a portrait shot that the me in this dimension took quite some time ago. It was fortunate that he was roughly the same age I was when the picture was taken. I "Hn"ed (sp?), and gave him back the datapad. His face almost turned ghost white.  
"Holy..."  
"Shit?"  
"Yes sir.." The taste of victory is so sweet.  
"Now do you believe me?"  
"Yes. I most certainly do."  
"I told you I was Strato."  
"I still outrank you."  
"Crap."  
"Nevertheless, though this is irrefutable evidence, it's not rock-solid. We'll do a DNA scan to confirm this. Until its confirmed, I don't care if you are or not, you're going back to your cell until we confirm it. However, I'll cut you a little slack. I'll give you some better meals and a pillow."  
"Thanks, I really appreciate it." And then I was escorted back to my cell. A few minutes later a soft pillow and a warm meal were delivered. Then I fell asleep.  
  
August 15, 3280  
I was awakened by a soft knock on the bars of my cell. It was the Kurita commander, come to give me the results of the analysis.  
"Well, I must say, I certainly thought you were a madman. But you check out. Although, I still have some questions as to what exactly the hell is going on here."  
"Understandably so."  
"So it's back to the interrogation room with you."  
"I feel like I know this place inside and out already."  
"Too damn bad. Come on." And we left for the interrogation room. There were fewer guards this time as well. Something told me that my situation was undoubtedly improving.   
  
Once we got to the interrogation room, I was seated in a folding chair and left alone for a few minutes before the commander came in to resume the much prolonged questioning.  
"Well, let's hear how you got here again."  
"Fine; here goes. I was on a routine mission to this planet, well, not exactly routine, since it was a commando op. But I've done so many of them that they all seem routine to me. Anyway, I complete my mission with flying colors, and on the way back I check my objectives. I see 'Destroy Targets of Opportunity' on the list, and figure, 'if I see one, I'll destroy it'. Then, sure enough, I see a target of opportunity. I targeted it, and blew the building. I continued on to my dustoff site, and when I got there, well, there was no dropship. So I returned to the urban areas to look for answers. On my way back, I notice the same building again, only this time it's in one piece. I decide to inspect it, just for shits and giggles; well it turns out that this facility had been doing top secret Clan R&D. I talked with one of the techs there who had the constitution to talk to me. They told me they were working with jumpship drive systems and something about psionics. I decided I'd had enough of the conversation with the guy at the facility, so I blew the place up. Then, looking off in the distance, I see the scenery twist and then untwist; as if a screwdriver had been turned to swirl fabric then untwisted. I thought, 'weird', and turned around to head back to the urban areas to look, but when I turn around, I see an urban area, but one that has been utterly massacred. I ran a search on the planet once more, trying to update my records as they has seriously been messed up. I found your settlements, and began heading towards this one. That's when I met up with you and you took me back to your base and interrogated me. Insert the previous two weeks' events here, and that brings us up to date."  
"Quite a story."  
"Indeed."  
"Quite unbelieveable."  
"I know."  
"But if it can be verified that you are Greg Strato, then probably anything's possible. It seems I have few choices easier than believing you."  
"That's reassuring."  
"However, I have one last question."  
"Shoot."  
"Can you help us?"  
"Depends on what you need help with. Chances are pretty good I can say 'yes'."  
"Come with me, I need you to see this if you want to help."  
"Ok, a little variety in scenery is a welcome event." I said as I stood to follow the commander to the operations room. It was a rather winding walk through the corridors to the ops room. When we finally arrived I was greeted in a rather strange way. Everyone simply stopped what they were doing and looked right at me. Evidentally someone had let it be known that I was in fact, Greg Strato, something which, for some reason, awed everyone.  
"Ummm, hi." Silence. "Just seeing what's going on. Don't mind me." But I don't think they were listening, since they didn't budge their gaze at all.   
"Over here." Kurita said, gesturing for me to come to the center of the room. On whose floor was a very large dynamic tac map. "This is where we plan every military operation we do, from simple patrols to large scale assaults. However, recently, we have been noticing strange sensor signals. They have just started popping up, and the only other time they have been seen was when we last saw you in action. I was hoping you could shed some light on the subject."  
"I don't know much about sensors, but in all the years I've been fighting, I've never seen anything like that. Sorry."  
"What would you suggest?"  
"You're asking me?"  
"Yes you, it's not often that war heroes come back from the dead."  
"Ok, well, I would suggest we get a lance out there and get visuals on these things, as well as log the pattern, and any variants of it. So if we see it we'll know right away. The visuals are just if one of those things pops up when you're in the field. Other than that, I gotta leave it to you." "Very well, let's send a lance out to see what it is."  
"If I may be so bold as to request that I be part of that lance, in my mech..."  
"Certainly, besides, even if we didn't give you your mech I'm sure you already know enough about this place to cause significant damage."  
"Alright then, let's move out."  
  
In the mech bay, the techs were working slower than usual on my mech. I suppose because they had never seen something of this caliber in their line of work. Nevertheless, after being yelled at a few times, they got their act together and finished quite quickly.  
"Ok, all systems green, ready to go."  
"Roger that." the guy up in the control room confirmed.  
"By the way, what's the designation of this lance?"  
"Uhh, Omega Lance."  
"Thanks." I said to the tech, "This is Omega One, lance...move out." I said as I brought my mech forward and out of the hangar, with three other mechs following in formation. I pulled my throttle to 25% which was my standard patrol speed. However, I quickly left my lancemates in the dust.   
"Hey! Come back here!" one of my lancemates yelled.  
"What? Oh, shit! Sorry 'bout that." I said as I turned around and headed back to my lance. "I forgot that I go a lot faster than you guys."   
"No problem, just keep in mind that we are on a much lesser playing field than you."  
"Ok, I figured I'd let you guys have access to my radar, so I installed a C3 Slave on my mech. Those of you with a C3 Master, take a gander at the range on this sucker." I said as I switched on the C3 unit. I wondered who had a C3 master onboard but decided that if they didn't they would suffer no tremendous loss as I would be within 200 meters of them at all times. But the one guy who did have a C3 Master, all I heard for the next 45 seconds was him raving about the "fucking incredible range" that I had. After he quieted down, I addressed my lance, as this would be the best opportunity to get to know them.  
"I'm new to this outfit, so if you don't mind, could you guys fill me in on yourselves?"  
"Yes sir. I am Lieutenant Commander Alfred "Waspy" Withersford. Callsign Omega three. Specialist in tactics and covert operations. Nice to meet you." He was piloting a Firemoth II. Similar in external design to the original, but about two meters taller, and sans the flap over the rear armor. Not the best, but definitely better than the original Firemoth. But that thing was fun to run around in. However the important thing was, the technology levels were congruous to my own. That was a very very good thing for me.  
"I am Sergeant Major Robert Nunn. Callsign Omega two. Specialist in demolitions and espionage. It's an honor." Piloting a massive Marauder with a custom variant, was a familiar sounding voice. Distinctly American, I could tell from the lack of accent and just a touch of arrogance in the tone. I was so used to working with people who had no accents it wasn't even funny.  
"I would be Major Makoto Hatabashi. Callsign Omega four. Specialist in linguistics and marksmanship. I'm at your command." Not surprisingly, the major was piloting a Hatamoto-Chi, custom variant.  
"I'm Greg Strato, Lambda Galaxy Commander. Specialist in commando and black ops. Nice to know I'm not the only ass-whipper around here."  
"Welcome aboard commander. Hopefully we'll work well together." Robert said to me as he pulled into formation behind "Waspy".  
"Well, we are out here to investigate the unknown sensor signals that HQ found. Let's look alive ladies."  
"Roger that."  
"Affirmative."  
"Hai." Makoto said.  
"What?" I asked.  
"Hai, it means 'yes', 'yes sir', and just generally an informal affirmative in Japanese."  
"Ah. I'll have to remember that."  
"Sir! Those sensor signals disappeared!" Robert yelled, probably the only man constantly looking at the radar.  
"What?"  
"They've disappeared sir. I don't know what happened. But now they're gone."  
"Alright, we'll head to the last known position and see what we find. If the results are inconclusive or the situation turns hostile for some reason, return to base immediately. Don't even wait for me to tell you anything, just head back at full throttle. Understood?"  
"Affirmative."  
"Affirmative."  
"Hai."  
"Hatabashi..." I said, raising my voice on the last syllable.  
"Sorry sir, affirmative."  
"Good. Let's go."  
  
  
Chapter 4: Vicarious Reality  
August 16, 3280  
  
We made our way through the patrol route, with the occasional remark about the scenery or someone's sexual orientation. This was a good sign; any unit that can joke like that can most certainly perform well. They had obviously worked together for some time. Good for me, bad for the enemy. But mostly the radio was silent, which left me time to think. to reflect on what exactly was going on here, and what it could possibly hold in store for me. When we neared the spot that we had last seen the signals at, we slowed to 50% throttle and began a much more meticulous search. When we got to the exact position, we discovered a giant red goo covering a circular section of earth, about ten meters in diameter.   
"What exactly the hell is that?" I asked to no one in particular.  
"I don't know sir, but we should collect a sample and bring it back to the base for identification." Omega Two said over the radio.  
"Acknowledged. Now, who's got the pooper-scooper?"  
"Sir?"  
"Well how are we gonna get this stuff back to HQ if we can't pick it up?"  
"Point." And so we tried to figure out what we could use to carry this stuff back to base with us. Robert had a jar with him for some reason or another. I swear, that man has the dirtiest cockpit and quarters I've ever seen. But his quarters were none of my concern. So myself, "Waspy", and Makoto took up a triangular stance facing outward to cover Robert as he hopped out of his mech, then down to the goo, and scooping some into the jar and sealing the lid. When he returned to his cockpit, we took up a protective formation around him, just in case something weird happened with the stuff. We walked along for about twenty minutes and then...  
"WHAT THE HELL!?" Robert yelled over the radio. "The stuff is moving on it's own! It seems to be trying to escape!"  
"Then get rid of it!" I yelled. Not about to lose one of my guys to some goo. "We can always come back later! Omega two and four, offensive interior formation!"  
"Roger."  
"Affirmative."  
"SHIT! It broke the container!" Robert reported, obviously scared.  
"Then eject!" and he did just that. However, the goo seemed to simply ooze it's way back the way we had come. Robert managed to get back into his mech, and so we went as fast as we could back to the base. Upon our arrival, we immediately went to the tac room.  
"What the hell happened!?" Kurita demanded.  
"Those sensor signals were coming from some red goo. We scooped some into a jar, and tried to bring it back. But on the way the shit started moving on it's own and broke the container. All it did after that was crawl back to where it came from. Other than that, I can't tell you much more."  
"Well then, let's get some proper equipment out there and figure out what the hell this stuff is." The commander suggested.  
"Thank you. However, may I request a breif period of rest for my lance?"  
"Of course! You certainly need it."  
"Thank you." I said and turned to address my lance. "We move out again tomorrow at 1000 hours. Get some rest boys and girls, you're sure as hell gonna need it at this rate."  
"Agreed."  
"Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna hit the showers. Water helps me think." Robert said as he walked away, obviously shaken by the apparent vitality of the goo. So my lance dispersed to get some much needed R&R.  
  
August 17, 3280  
The next day I woke up at 0500. Not cool. I couldn't sleep for the next three hours. At one point I headed down to the mess hall to get something that might resemble food. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the food was great. A nice scrambled eggs, bacon, and a glass of orange juice were the perfect breakfast right then. I went to the simulators to brush up on the tech level of this period. Whenever the hell I was. I still had to work that one out. Anyway, after the simulators, I headed to the mech bay, where my mech was being studied and stored. Hopefully I could teach them something and perhaps find a way off this rock and into space where I could really go places. Then I might be able to figure out what exactly the hell had happened with that facility. But that was musing for another day. Sometime around 0900 I began running some diagnostics on my machine. Nothing unusual, as was usually the case. If there was anything wrong, I had to trust the techs to fix it. As I had neither the time nor the desire to understand all of the inner workings of the thing to their full extent. I simply knew how to make it do what I wanted, and when that failed I knew where the backup systems and backup subsystems were. That sort of thing came in handy when piloting a commandeered enemy mech. At 1000 hours, I was in the cockpit of my 700-ton war machine and rearing to go. Most of the time I couldn't stand going at the slow pace that these guys called "fast". But today I seemed more tolerant of it, or maybe I was still a little shaken from the previous days events. Eventually my lance and the hazmat crew made it to the red goo, and began a _very_ careful process of capturing a sample of the stuff and then containing it within something more substantial than a glass jar. We began heading back when the goo started acting up again. It freaked the technicians out a little bit at first, but then it became rather rote. We also took note of the fact that the farther away from it's source it got, the less and less it struggled to get free. Which was rather interesting. We got back to the base after a long and uneventful trip occasionally accented by someone firing a small laser at a rock or some small object. After we returned to base, it was put under a yellow alert and the medical labs locked-down. My lance was given the day off as we were no longer needed. I welcomed the rest.  
  
August 18, 3280  
The next day I was interrupted from the simulators by an alert that a hostile lance was approaching the base.  
"Stupid sons of bitches." Robert grumbled as he ran towards the mech bay alongside me.  
"What's going on?"  
"Well there's another settlement on this planet, the remnants of an FedCom force sent here to take the planet from us. This is a backwater planet so nobody comes here looking for us. Not to mention the fact that all interstellar travel equipment was lost in the subsequent fighting. We also don't have enough supplies to rebuild any of it. So we're stuck here unless someone stumbles across us."  
"I see. Well, I've never been a big fan of the FC, so let's go kick some ass."  
"Rock on Commander, rock on."  
"I was a Star League man myself."  
"Really? What was it like?"  
"Almost like it was said to have been when the original Star League was in power. All the finest tech, best weapons, best rations, best everything...except commanders."  
"I hear that!" Robert said with quite a bit of enthusiasm. We reached the mech bay moments after he finished his sentence. We rushed to our respective mechs, and began getting coordinated.  
"Ok, Lamda, Omega, and Alpha lance: you will intercept and defend the base. Gamma and Sigma lance, you will flank to the left and right respectively." it was HQ.  
"Why so many mechs for just one lance?" I asked.  
"Because they have a few clan mechs and some clan armaments over there. We can't be too careful."  
"I see." I paused, "Omega lance! New orders! The three of you are to engage the enemy in a v-form with Waspy and Nunn on flank and Hitabashi in the middle, I will go on ahead and soften them up. Understood?"  
"Roger."  
"Affirmative."  
"Ha...Affirmative."  
"Good boy Hitabashi, you get a biscuit when we're done." I said sarcastically. With that I sped up to my usual cruising speed and ran circles around a Mauler, Dragon, and a Maruader II-C. Farther back were a duo of mechs, entailing an Orion and an Avatar. Slim pickings on this planet. So I sped up and ran inbetween their mechs for about a minute, causing them to either shoot each other, or waste valuable missiles. When I was done with the first three, I moved to the second pair and "softened" them up as well. Then I headed back to the base to rejoin my lance and watch the firefight. I wasn't going to make this _too_ easy on them. But the enemy now knew full well what their fate would be. Although judging from the reaction and the sheer overwhelming power we responded with, it looks as though these guys knew their fate even before they saw me. Again, reflection for another day. As I heading back, the three front mechs were just about close enough that the artillery should start falling on them. I radioed in and told them the situation. Needless to say, they were all very relieved. But they weren't out of the woods yet. Regardless of how quickly the battle was over, I thought they did a rather sloppy job. I mean, Hitabashi was missing an arm! Waspy had blown a leg actuator, and Nunn; don't even get me started on him. He not only lost BOTH arms, most of his torso armor, but he also exhausted his missile supply and had to rely on only a pair of medium pulse lasers and a small clan laser. These guys would get a stern talking-to afterwards. However, I had a headache and didn't really feel like ripping them a new one, so I put it off til tomorrow.  
When I got in, all three came up and stood in formation.  
"At ease, although that was a really sorry performance out there. I want you all in my office at 0900 tomorrow."  
"But sir! I have a physical tomorrow at 0845!" Waspy said, obviously pleading with me.  
"NO BUTS! Tomorrow at 0900! That's FINAL!" Then I turned and headed to get some ibuprofen.  
  
August 19, 3280  
At 0900 everyone was in my office, standing in full uniform, and at attention.  
"Care to tell me what the hell happened out there?" I asked, leaning on my desk in a manner which suggested a no-win answer.  
"Sir, we were expecting lighter forces to begin with..."  
"Expecting? The only things you can 'expect' in life are death and taxes! So before we go any farther, I'm going to give you exactly 80 seconds to give me a plausible answer. Otherwise, 100 pushups and five miles. Then five hours more training. (pause) Go." They all got extremly nervous faces on. Then suddenly, they lightened. Then back to frowning and nervousness again. I was beginning to enjoy making them squirm.  
"Tick, tock, tick, tock, down goes the clock." I looked at my watch and saw 13 seconds left. "Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, time. So, where's my answer?"  
"I don't have one, sir." Waspy admitted and hung his head in embarrassment.  
"I have no explanation either sir." Hitabashi followed. Nunn was smiling.  
"Well Mr. Nunn, just what exactly do you find so funny?"  
"The fact that they can't give you an explanation to an obviously simple question."  
"And that answer is?"  
"We were outclassed and outnumbered, pure and simple. Despite you "softening" them up, they still had clan tech bearing down on us the whole time, in superior chassis', despite the pounding from the side. They know who we are and we are in first place on their hit list. Besides, it was a suicide mission anyway, everyone involved knew that." For a moment there was nothing but silence. "Or do I need to get going on those pushups?" Then more silence.  
"Perfect. You're right, you were outclassed, outgunned, and outweighed. But not outmatched nor outwitted. And that's why Mr. Nunn will be relaxing whilst you two do pushups, run laps, and train some more."  
"WHAT!" They both said in unison.  
"Hey, he came up with a plausible answer; you had an equal chance, but you failed. That's the way the cookie crumbles, Al."  
"Very well then. I shall get going. Al, I suggest you join me." Hitabashi said as they left, and Robert was still standing there.  
"So tell me," I said as I turned and sat down in my comfy leather chair, "how did you know that?"  
"Simple observations and deductions. Once you've seen clan tech, you never forget it. At least I don't."  
"That's what I like about you. You're good at finding an answer even if it is a simple one that everyone else discarded because of its ease. That's not to say that the other pilots are any lesser than you, just they are skilled in different areas."  
"Understood. Now sir, if you'll excuse me, I'll take my leave." Robert said as he took a small bow, then turned and left with a style and grace only unto a spy from those old movies. He always was a dramatist.  
"Now, provided there are no more attacks," I said to myself, "I will take the rest of the day off."  
  
August 20, 3280 (My birthday)  
Things were going pretty well considering my situation. I had woken up about 0900, which was late for me. I turned 35 at 1100 or at least I would be 35 if it was 3288. I had the good fortune to be in the mess hall when they just pulled fresh fries from the fryer. Not to mention the uncanny luck I had whilst troubleshooting that crosshair in my mech. The damn thing kept drifting, but the error was quickly and surprisingly easily corrected. That seemed to be the high point of my day, as the rest of it was decidedly mediocre. At about 1300 I visited the observation deck, just to take a look around. I drew a few awkward stares as I opened the cieling escape hatch and sat atop the tower to view the landscape without the clutter of all those super-imposed readouts. I suppose I just have a thing for seeing things as they truly are and not cluttered with details. As I looked out over the terrain I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer simplicity of it. Despite the harshness of the situation, there was still green grass covering the land as far as the eye could see. The only exceptions being the trails taken by the patrols and the area near the vehicle and mech bays were. It was a nice reward for my birthday, to have half the day totally off. No duties at all, it was really nice. But I still had second shift patrols. However that proved to be the real high point of my day.  
  
  
Chapter 5; Part 1: Of Goop and God  
August 20, 3280; 1600 hours  
I started out on my patrol, alone. I got this shift because most people were winding down for the day and they wanted as many alert capable pilots and they could get. So now here I was, wandering the same path I had taken for close to a month. It began to become quite familiar to me. Then, out of the blue, a set of four enemy blips appeared on my scope.  
"Omega one to HQ, I have four hostiles on my radar, I am going to check it out."  
"Roger that. Just leave something to salvage. Parts are tight these days."  
"Affirmative." I said as I pushed the throttle to 25% and prepared to take down some FC scum.   
  
What I found was not quite what I expected.  
  
The red blips stopped moving when I closed to 5 kilometers. I figured _sitting ducks...what morons.._ and continued to close. They were atop a small foothill, waiting for me. When I crested the hill, I almost let the mech fall over in shock.  
They weren't hostiles, they were large blobs of red goo. Similar to the goo that the science team had extracted earlier. As I stood there in stupefied awe, one of the blobs started to move. That was when things started to get weird.   
I started to move away, but this tentacle-looking...thing...just popped out and grabbed my torso, and lifted me off the ground! Right about now you're thinking, _Greg, what have you been smoking and why aren't you sharing?_ Well I'm getting to the point. They grabbed me, and pulled me violently back into the middle of the four, then they started oozing towards me. Every time I tried to get up, one of them would knock me back down. I was pissed off and scared shitless at the same time, but knew better than to let them influence my actions. I tried shooting it with my lasers; no effect. I tried shooting it with missiles; no effect. I tried an alpha strike or two; no effect. By the time the third alpha was about to fire, I had been totally engulfed in them. It would be suicide to fire like that. Then, one by one, my displays shorted out.  
"Well I'll be goddamned. Never thought it would end like this." I said as the last screen shorted out and all light faded slowly away. I thought I had died. At the hands, so to speak, of a completely unknown and unprovoked aggressor. That really frosts my shorts. But I was not so fortunate to have the honor of death. Just as quickly as everything had become black, everything became white.  
I was standing on some unknown surface in what appeared to be a white void. Then an angel, yes an angel, (don't ask how I knew, I just did) walked towards me and handed me a note and what looked like a small primitive remote control. Like one from the 20th century. Then, the angel disappeared, saying nothing the whole time, and likewise, neither did I. The note read:  
  
-Greg  
  
Sorry, one of my boys messed up.  
  


-God

  
  
  
And there I stood, again in stupefied amazement. Discarding the note, I looked at the remote and could only wonder what it had in store for me. So without any other real options, I pushed the button. The ground gave way and I fell. For what seemed like eternity I fell. I began trying to tap my foot, because if I was going to hit the bottom and splatter like a hotpocket dropped from the top of a Gargoyle, I wanted it to get here faster. I closed my eyes and waited. I hate waiting.   
  
  
Chapter 5; Part 2: Second Chance  
December 25, 3280  
  
I opened my eyes to see a raging battle. All was chaos, but somehow it looked familiar to me. I had been in this situation before. Then it hit me. _This is battle where my family died. Holy fuck._ I immediately did a 180 and ran as fast as the mech would go in the direction of the spaceport. I opened a comm channel.  
"NEW ORDERS! Lambda Lance, protect the spaceport at all costs! And I mean ALL FUCKING COSTS DAMMIT!"  
"But sir..!"  
"That's an ORDER Harrison!" I yelled. There was a snowball's chance in hell of the same thing repeating itself. Not on my watch.   
The spaceport came into view in about one minute. I could see a shuttle taking off. My family's shuttle. And there was that same goddamned marauder about to open fire. I took the opportunity to open a comm channel with it, and at the same time punch, literally and figuratively, the alpha strike button about six times.  
"DIE YOU SON OF A BITCH!!" I screamed at him, successfully diverting his attention for half a second, which was about twice what I needed. After the first alpha strike hit, I became so filled with rage that I charged the dying mech and rammed it as hard as I could, trying to make it explode into a million smithereens. Which it promptly did, and I stood in the spot where it went critical, my rage abating in the knowledge that they had safely gotten away. Now to finish up the stragglers. I reopened the comm link to my lance.  
"Lambda Lance, guard the spaceport while I attend to the rest of the Galaxy."  
"Roger." Came three voices in unison.   
I returned to where I was supposed to be headed. Upon arriving, I addressed the entire Galaxy.  
"This is Galaxy Commander Greg Strato All units pull into a Wedge formation with me on point. We'll drive these scumbags from our Homeworld before sundown! BATTLECRY!" Which was quickly followed by the entire galaxy responding in unison,  
"Doom to all who threaten the homeworld!!" Remoralized once again, the galaxy charged forward, laying waste to anything in their path. The rest, as they say, is history.  
  


--- Two days later --- 

  
  
When it was all over, we had taken less casualties than I remembered we did. I reflected on what had happened to me in the (apparent) past few weeks. Yet I could not shake this strange feeling that had settled over me once the battle was won. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it just had me almost constantly preoccupied with what it was. However, it seemed to go away whenever I was with my family. My wife, Alexandra; my two children, Danielle and Mark. As well as my extended family. So all was at peace, sort of. There was still a giant war going on, but I didn't care right now. I had my own separate peace.  
  
  
Epilogue: Revelation  
December 27, 3280  
  
As usual Alexandra had dragged me along to the Christmas service at the church. Well, not the actual church. It had been knocked over by an enemy Nova. The service we were attending was being held in the meeting hall of a military bunker near Lake Wanama. A little cramped but acceptable. I wasn't really paying attention during the sermon except for the opening line the preacher used. It was a quote by a Mr. Robert Browning. "God's in his heaven, all's right with the world." I was fixated on that for the rest of the sermon. When they closed in prayer, I bowed my head as I normally do, but this time, instead of just mimicking everyone else's action, I really prayed. I said to myself, _I didn't know if there was a God or not for the longest while. Now I know that he exists. Please lift my burden. Amen._ and raised my head and looked around; everyone else was still praying. I just sat back and waited for the end. When it came, we piled into the car and made our way home.   
The kids in the back seat, the wife fiddling with the radio, and me in quiet reflection. _God's sure in his heaven, but while all may not be right with even this world, all's right in mine._ I thought as we continued down the road home. With that feeling lifted, and my family beside me, I felt invincible. So I looked down the road and though how many times it has been used as a metaphor for life. Then I realized that somewhere I must have taken an offramp that wasn't finished. But I had found my way back to the proverbial road and set my course again. This time, aided solely in spirit by powers that were beyond my comprehension. As fear-inspiring as it was, I felt safe and secure. _I fear no enemy, for God is my strength. I fear not death, for my soul is eternal._ From then on that was my motto, and it would follow me wherever I went, and leave it's mark in my wake. I was finally at peace with myself. 


End file.
